Page 125 of Dial L for Lawyer
"Why should I tell you anything?" Her jaw tightens. "So you can feel better about winning?"
"I didn't win. We both lost."
That stops her. "You got your job back."
"They offered me VP, actually."
Maya flinches like I slapped her. Then she laughs—harsh sounds that bounce off the walls.
"Of course they did. Do you have any idea what it's like working for someone who never makes mistakes? Perfect Serena Morgan. It’s exhausting just being near you."
"Perfect?" I lean forward. "You want to know what perfect looks like? Throwing up before board presentations. Xanax for panic attacks. Crying in bathroom stalls."
"Bullshit."
"I'm serious. Three anxiety medications. Therapy twice a week when I can fit it in. Stress acne I cover with concealer so thick it could spackle walls."
Maya stares at me like I'm speaking another language.
"You know why I stayed late all those nights?" I continue. "Not dedication. Fear. Terror that if I left anything unfinished, everyone would realize I didn't deserve to be there."
"But you never let it show."
"I'm a good actress, apparently. My shapewear alone deserves an Oscar. Heavy-duty, every single day. I literally cannot bend at the waist in what I'm wearing right now."
"That's..." Maya starts laughing. Different this time. "That's insane."
"I know."
"Three years I worked for you," she says, sobering. "Not once did I see you fail at anything."
"You never saw me try to parallel park. Or use Excel. Or eat soup without spilling on my shirt."
Maya almost smiles. "You can't use Excel?"
"I fake it. Google everything. My formulas are held together with prayer."
"But your presentations?—"
"Practiced until 3 AM. Every single one. In my bathroom mirror, to the stray cat on my fire escape, to my dying plants."
"Your clothes never wrinkle."
"Steamer in my office. Backup outfit on the back of my door. Safety pins in case a button gives way."
"You never missed a deadline."
"Because I was too terrified of what would happen if I did."
Maya's crying now, angry tears she doesn't bother wiping. "Do you have any idea what it's like working for someone you think never struggles? Never doubts? I'd come in every day and see Perfect Serena, and I'd feel like such a failure."
"I was scared of you," I admit.
Her tears stop. "What?"
"Terrified. You picked things up so fast. Your ideas were fresh. You had this energy I'd lost somewhere along the way." I meet her eyes. "I was convinced you'd realize you were better than me and leave me behind."
"You were scared of me?"
